


Waltz

by Echo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Friendship, Gen, Paternal Lestrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 12:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11253222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echo/pseuds/Echo
Summary: Lestrade tracks down Sherlock after the wedding for a quiet word.And a spot of dancing.





	Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> My very first foray in the Sherlock fandom. Still trying to find their voices. Let's see how this goes.

"So here's the part I don't get." Lestrade said, hands in pockets, walking easily down the grassy hill from the reception. "You made it through the whole day, not biting anyone's head off or saying anything that'd lead to tears, even saw you smile once or twice. But then, when all the rough parts are over and there's just the dancing to worry about, you go and make yourself scarce. Thought that was the one part of the night you might actually be looking forward to."

"Oh really? And what led you to believe that I had any inclination towards dancing?"

Lestrade chuckled, dropping down to the slightly damp grass next to Sherlock. "Seen you, haven't I? Back when you were high as a kite more often then not, twirling away to tunes only you could hear."

"Ah." Sherlock acquiesced, "Yes, I suppose that was an unfortunate habit. But what is happening in there," he angled his head back towards the festivities, "is hardly what I'd consider dancing. They have no sense of..."

"Dignity?" Lestrade suggested. Sherlock's lip quirked very slightly up, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Musicality, Lestrade. Timing. They just... Shake. Vigorously. With little or no regard for the music."

"Is that so?" Lestrade replied, looking amused. "Go on then, you going to show us how it's done? I'm a quick study."

Sherlock looked momentarily confused, then became even more so when Lestrade stood, holding out a hand.

"I mean, I could lead if you want, but following's never really been your style."

"I hardly think this is the place, Lestrade. Or the time." Sherlock eventually answered, looking quite put out.

"You're not serious? This is a wedding reception, Sherlock. After an actual wedding. This is about as 'right' as it gets." He gave Sherlock a few more moments, then shrugged. "No? Well then, I suppose I'll just have to make do without."

He then proceeded to take a waltzing position, and take a few inelegant and deliberately mistimed steps, humming all the while. He knew he looked more than a bit ridiculous, so couldn't help but smile when he heard Sherlock huff in irritation behind him mere moments in. He schooled his face quickly though, and a few seconds later when he was turned around and none-to carefully manhandled into position.

"Really Lestrade, you were married yourself once. Did you really not learn how to do this properly?" Sherlock griped, but took the lead with grace. Unused to following, it took Lestrade a few steps to find his footing.

"Course I did. Been a few years though. And if I didn't look enough of a fool just now, I wouldn't have got you up here teaching me, now would I?"

Sherlock gave him a disapproving look, but didn't falter in his step. "Your powers of manipulation know no bounds, Detective Inspector." He said dryly.

Lestrade let him be for a while. The strains of music coming from the reception hall shifted to a new tune, but Sherlock didn't seem to notice. His formal steps from earlier relaxed into a more easy rhythm, but his eyes were distant.

"So, do you want to tell me what's got you all tied up in knots?" Lestrade asked, gentle and coaxing. It was voice he only ever seemed to use around frightened children and skittish consulting detectives.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lestrade." Sherlock answered, but it lacked its usual bite. If anything, he sounded tired. Lestrade said as much.

"It's been a very tiring day." Sherlock defended, still lacking his trademark sharpness.

"Just today?"

Lestrade felt Sherlock's grip tighten around his hand for just a moment; a tiny but telling flaw in his control. Lestrade squeezed back, and didn't mention it.

"A very tiring week... Month..." Sherlock pursed his lips, then quieter again, "Two years."

"Hmm?" Lestrade prompted a few seconds later, when nothing more seemed to be forthcoming. Sherlock steps faltered for a moment, then recovered.

"This was... Not how I had anticipated it would be."

"Coming home?" Lestrade guessed. Sherlock gave a single, small nod.

"I had predicted that my return would take a particular form, and it did not. I do not care for being wrong."

It took a lot of self control for Lestrade not to snort at the sentiment. He recovered valiantly. "You didn't expect John to move on, you mean?"

"I didn't consider... Or I didn't allow myself to consider that you would all continue to move forward in my absence. I chose to delude myself, so that I would be able to finish my mission."

The music shifted again, to something quieter. Lestrade could no longer make out the tune over the chirping chorus of night insects. Sherlock swayed to a stop, but didn't let go.

"And now?" Lestrade asked, gentle as anything.

"Now I find myself constantly running to catch up. It's... Exhausting."

"Funny," Lestrade said, ducking his head a short way to catch Sherlock's downward gaze. "You and he always used to be the ones running around London, leaving me in the dust."

Sherlock looked at him dead on then, calculating. "How could you stand it?" he asked, his eyes suddenly dark and unwavering.

Lestrade was silent for a moment before answering. "I suppose," he said carefully, "it was because I always trusted the two of you to come back again, after you got wherever you were going to."

Sherlock stared at him for a few seconds more, before once again giving a single nod and dropping his gaze. Lestrade gave his hand another quick squeeze. "Come on," he said, turning and pulling Sherlock along gently, "I'll drive you home."

"Won't you be missed?" Sherlock asked, glancing back at the hall. The lights cast odd shadows over the lawn.

"Doubt it. But if anyone asks, I'll just say I had to sort out some paperwork from the arrest this afternoon."

Sherlock nodded, then hesitated. "Don't you? Have to fill in paperwork?"

Lestrade laughed. "'Course I do. But nothing that can't wait 'til morning."

He guided the uncharacteristically pliant detective to the passenger door, then came around and got in himself. "So, three Watsons, then?" he asked, casual as he could.

"I miscounted."

"No you didn't."

There was a moment's silence. 

"No. I didn't."

Lestrade let out a slow whistle. "Blimey, that was fast." He glanced over to his passenger. "You going to be okay with that?"

"I think... I will find a way to be."

"Good lad."


End file.
